Bedside Stories
by WindowChild
Summary: Snapshots from a variety of households, as the characters attempt to care for the wounded and grieve for the dead. Post DH.
1. Malfoy Manor I

Draco dipped his fingers into his father's nightstand mixture, causing the purple liquid to ooze and stick. He quickly withdrew, wiping them on his robe.

"Draco." It was Narcissa, whispering nervously to him. "Will you help me get your father up the stairs? I haven't had time to get a new house elf yet, and –"

Draco nodded hurriedly, trying to smile for her. "Of course, mother." She remained the one person he would do anything for.

He followed her down into the grand foyer, still uncomfortable in his own home. Something about the death eaters' presence lingered against the walls, making every shadow cling like a leech. He had never thought that his house was cold before, but now he thought he understood. Every last doorway and picture frame had remained untouched since the war – since they'd held hostages there - but it felt as if they were greatly scarred. He shook himself, uncertain as to why he felt this way.

"How is father?" Draco asked, keeping his voice casual and his volume low.

"Better," Narcissa answered, honestly. "His face is only slightly bruised, and although he's still limping…" She trailed off. "I'm not sure what will make him happier."

_No trial, _Draco thought bitterly. But no, they couldn't control that. Their money wasn't the same as power any longer, and neither were their ancestors.

"Isn't there magic you can use to get rid of that limp?" Draco asked. He couldn't help it, he sounded scornful. All of his life, there had been a magical ailment to everything. Why not now?

"None that I know of," Narcissa replied. "Draco." She turned to her son, smiling in spite of herself. Even after everything that had happened, he made her proud. "I am going to Nymphadora's funeral today. Would you like to come with me?"

Draco stared at her, sure that she must be lying or joking. She would never. Nymphadora was the foul stain on their family's blood, and he shuddered to think about her husband. Those are the words that _she_ had said, that Bellatrix… He stopped himself there. Their old values didn't matter anymore, did they?

"Should I?" His voice peaked on a vague falsetto, silently begging his mother not to ask him to. He would certainly see Potter there, not to mention an assortment of other undesired people. It would be the first time, too. He had managed to avoid seeing anyone, save his parents, since the first day after. It was now eight days after, and he hoped to put it off for at least another three.

"No, I suppose not," she said, sighing. "Stay here with your father."

Draco stayed where he was, by the staircase, even as his mother went to get her coat. He would have to be alone with Lucius, then. He would have to answer his every need of medicine, his every call for weak tea. But it was better than facing reality, and so Draco shut his eyes and nodded. It was just a few hours, after all.

Narcissa returned to her son's side, staring at him for a long moment. Then, she surprised him by pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Oh Draco…" she murmured, touching his blonde hair with her fingertips. "You're a good son." She drew away, and Draco was alarmed to see that her eyes were filled with tears. She'd been crying a lot since the battle, although rarely over Draco. He swallowed and nodded, unsure of how to reply.

"I'll help you bring him upstairs, then I have to go," she said, wiping at her eyes.

Draco couldn't help it, he was dreading the next few hours. It wasn't that he and his father didn't get along, because they did, but it had become tricky. Lucius was stressed and worn out from battle, and even though Draco was grateful that his father had been trying to save his life, there was little to talk about. The war was over, their entire life and reputation shredded. And yet, there was also the fragile sense of relief. They didn't have to run now. Aside from the remaining fear of prison sentences, for both Draco and his father, they were free. And since stupid, noble Potter had marked them as "not dangerous", their trial might not be for a month or so. For the moment, Draco could breathe.

"Lucius." Narcissa went forward and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, making him smile as only she could do. She had been most affectionate since the battle, wanting to be sure that she kept Draco and Lucius close.

He glanced towards them, the scars and bruises around his eyes still jarring. Narcissa said that she'd tried magical treatments, but it left Draco to wonder how that could be possible. Didn't magic heal everything?

As soon as Narcissa let go, Lucius mouth was replaced in a grim line. "Time to go upstairs?" His silky voice was blotted with rasps and coughs, making it hard to understand at times. They hadn't been to St. Mungos yet, partially because Narcissa feared that they would be denied, and so they did not know his exact condition. They only knew that he had inhaled a lot of smoke, accepted a lot of torture, and had spent the battle being blindly cursed and hexed as he searched for his wife and son. He had seemed fine that night, relatively speaking, anyway, and then had taken ill the next morning. This still disturbed Draco, a slight bit, as he was left to wonder what exactly had happened. What had caused his father sickness, between midnight and the morning after?

"Yes," Narcissa said, placing her cool hands on Lucius's forehead. "Come, Draco and I will help you."

He obliged with a grimace, staggering over to let his family help him. It was a strange picture, Draco thought, the image of him leaning on the two of them. He was so incredibly proud and detached, that Draco rarely thought of him as leaning on anyone at all.

"Draco's going to stay with you, alright?" Narcissa whispered, her eyes always careful and patient.

Lucius gave a brief nod, unable to speak in the strain of getting upstairs. They had discussed it then, Draco realized with a start. He and Narcissa had mutually consented to the idea of her attending the funeral. It shocked Draco, really, as he thought that his father would never allow that. It compromised every single piece of their old life; and after all, hadn't they lost enough of that already?

But no matter… Draco silently helped his father to the bedroom, feeling how he got easier to transport every day. He'd stopped eating, more or less. It was a problem, although not one of immediate concern.

"I have to hurry," Narcissa said softly, to no one in particular. They had put Lucius on the bed, and placed his favorite puce throw blanket atop of him. "Goodbye." She gave them a kiss apiece, and then hurried out the bedroom door.

Draco stared after her, wondering. Was it possible that his parents were scheming? Sending Narcissa off to the funeral, having her pay her respects… She would gain their trust, no doubt. It might cut their trial short, or earn them their right to a hospital room. Draco gulped down some air, thinking quietly to himself. Were they sure that they wouldn't be given medicine, if they just went? They didn't know that they would be declined, did they? There was no way to be sure…

A hacking cough from the bed sent him jumping, and he turned back to his father. The coughing still disturbed him, a little bit. Lucius usually acted so manicured, that seeing him perform any candid actions always alarmed Draco.

"Is the temperature alright, father?" Draco asked. He had finally mastered the room-air spell, over the course of his year at Hogwarts.

"It's fine," Lucius said, nearly sounding impatient.

Draco took a good look at him, and the way his white-blonde hair clung to the pillows. He looked so old, so sick… Draco wasn't sure what had happened. Well no, he was sure. Lucius had been imprisoned, held to a leash by the Dark Lord, and then narrowly survived battle. That's what had happened. It would take a toll on anyone, and Draco couldn't help but feel proud of his father. Whatever anyone else may have said, Lucius was incontestably strong. And brave too, Draco thought fiercely. He wouldn't listen to that little voice, humming that Lucius was a coward. He was the finest man that Draco knew.

"Do you need anything?" Draco asked, hoping it wasn't anything in the kitchen. He wasn't any good at preparing tea or other drinks.

"No," Lucius said, with a sigh. "Shut the door when you leave, alright?"

"Alright," Draco said softly, slowly backing out of the room. "Try to get some sleep, father." He did as he was told, closing the door as he left. He shuddered, hating the widespread hallways of the manor. Maybe, if they were lucky, Narcissa would return from the funeral with good news.

A/N: There will be more on the Malfoys, of course, as well as chapters on all the other characters. Please tell me what you think!


	2. Andromeda and Teddy I

A/N: Thanks so much to the people who reviewed last chapter! I really appreciate it!

Andromeda nestled Teddy in her arms, sighing heavily. Today was the day, then. Her daughter and son-in-law were to be buried in Godric's Hallow. Harry had lightly requested it, saying that Remus would want to be near James and Lily. This was true, of course, and Andromeda had consented.

Still, she felt her heart ache just a little harder. The last few days had been a definite muddle of tears and hiding photographs, but this hurt more than crying could acknowledge for her. Nymphadora would be really gone now, without any chance at reappearing.

Teddy gave a little sneeze, and she sighed again. He was getting sick, running a fever and the like. Nymphadora had often been sick as a baby, she remembered. They were so alike already, mother and son.

It hardly seemed appropriate, though. If he were sick, he shouldn't be leaving the house, but he couldn't very well miss his parents' funeral. A sob crept up on her, and she quickly beckoned to her owl. She would write Harry, as she had already done twice.

He had said, the very moment he'd seen her, that he would help raise Teddy as much as he could. He had made it clear that she was free to lean on him, and Andromeda could tell that he loved Teddy very much. And while she knew that he had his own things to own arrange, with the Weasley family and the Hogwarts tribute, she couldn't help it. Everyone else had gone, and she needed _someone. _

She scribbled out the note, writing something about medicine and the funeral. He needed to come before noon then, since that's when the service would begin. She glanced to her own ailment cupboard, which was bare. She hadn't been out, since the battle, and she hadn't bought any of their ordinary staples. It had been a while since she'd been a parent, she realized. She was slightly forgetful in the art form of healing potions and Zonko's toys for toddlers.

Teddy gave a muffled wail, his fever clearly spiking. Andromeda cuddled him, feeling stupid and guilty about not having the proper medicine on hand. Any competent mother or father would know that you should never be without fever potion. Tears slid down her cheeks, and she was furious with herself. She had to get a grip on herself, for Teddy's sake. There would be plenty time for grieving, but she could do that while retaining her sanity, couldn't she? The two cried in unison, and Andromeda was uncertain who was the worse mess.

An hour passed, and then came a knock at the door. Andromeda muttered a prayer, running to the door. Ignoring her red-rimmed eyes and the disheveled Teddy in her arms, she threw it open.

"Thank you," she murmured, before she even got a glimpse of Harry.

He looked surprised for only a moment, before softening with sympathy. "Of course," he said. "How is he?"

"Teddy?" Andromeda asked, feeling stupider by the moment. "Yes, of course Teddy," she answered herself. "He's… he's very sick, I'm afraid. And I didn't have the right potions…" Her voice broke, and she stopped speaking.

Harry offered a smile, holding up a bag. "I've brought it. Would you like me to get him ready?" He sounded very sincere, eager to help despite his own forlorn appearance.

"If that's alright," Andromeda said softly.

Harry gave a nod at once, taking Teddy from her. He let his hand linger on her arm, clearly trying to give any sort of comfort. Andromeda shut her eyes, unable to bear his generosity. How could such a young boy be so strong? Harry patted her shoulder blade, and then slowly took Teddy from the room.

He was good with Teddy, Andromeda remarked to herself. She was uncertain whether it was his affinity for his godson, or that he was simply good with children. She hoped for a combination of the two, thinking hopefully of little cousins for her grandson. There, she told herself proudly. A silver lining. She was capable of finding things to look forward to.

Even as she thought this, her eyes fell on a teacup across the room. It was just a teacup, after all, but even that was too much. Nymphadora had drunk from that. Probably many times. Her only daughter, her only child. And she was gone now, along with her own father and husband. And her aunt… Andromeda thought, reluctantly.

She had been absent from the battle, having stayed home with Teddy, but she had read the expanded edition of The Daily Prophet the next morning. Bellatrix Lestrange. Credited with a dozen killings, including that of Nymphadora Tonks. This alone was enough to bring Andromeda back to bitter tears. Her sister had killed her precious baby girl, who wasn't even supposed to be at Hogwarts that night. Her throat seemed to form a wall, keeping the sobs in her throat, where they silently choked her. She lay her head against the tabletop, weakening enough to lose it entirely.

The minutes ticked on, and Andromeda found she couldn't stop herself. It was too difficult, especially with the approaching hours. She would get it out now, she told herself, and it would be better at the funeral. She thought quickly of Harry and Teddy in the next room, and then decided that they wouldn't mind. Or maybe, if she were lucky, they wouldn't even notice.

It was half past eleven when Harry returned, carrying a sleeping Teddy. "His nose is still running, but I think his fever's gone. I put him in his nicest clothes, if that's okay."

Andromeda picked her head up, her tears stopped for the moment. "That's wonderful. Thank-thank you, Harry. I – I –" she stopped again, shaking her head. Simple words had become too hard to say.

He gave a nod, for once not trying to soothe with a smile. It was too hard for him as well, maybe.

For just a seconds, Andromeda's maternal instincts returned to her. The boy looked exhausted. Positively drained, and she could bet that no one else had noticed. After all, the Weasley's had lost a child as well. Harry's hair was a mess, and his eyelids had purple circles under them. He hadn't stopped moving since the battle, and he wasn't going to unless someone made him. Unexpectedly, she gave a watery smile.

"Would you like some tea, Harry?" she asked. "We have a few minutes, and Teddy's asleep. Perhaps you and I could talk?"

He looked torn. He didn't want to refuse, but he also didn't have the energy for it. She took his arm, completely understanding. "It's okay," she whispered. "When you're ready, we'll talk."

"Really?" He sounded hopeful.

"Yes," she said. Then, with a sigh and a glance to the window, "It's nearly twelve. Should we go?"

Harry gave a nod, fully aware of the difficulty in the day to come. They each had an arm under Teddy, prepared to support his blissfully unaware form throughout the day. "Let's go."

A/N: Please review! Also, just to note, there will be five different stories, that will be circulating. Malfoy Manor, Andromeda and Teddy, St. Mungo's, The Burrow and Hogwarts. Thanks so much for reading!


	3. Neville and Luna I

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I really appreciate it!

"How many more rooms are on this floor?" Neville asked, mystified. He thought they'd turned that corner already, but the paint looked a slightly different shade.

"These," Luna replied, shifting the load of baskets in her arms. "And then those," she pointed to the left. "Then we can go up to the next level." She eyed Neville. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He waved a hand, shoving away her concern. "I'm fine. How – how are you?" He grimaced, noticing she was carrying twice the amount of gift baskets as he was. "Hey, do you want me to take some of those?"

"No thank you," Luna replied, "And I'm fine too." She cocked her head to the side. "If you're _really_ fine, that is."

Neville shrugged. No, none of them were technically "fine", but at the moment he was enduring a pleasant numb sensation. It was helpful, when one was visiting their critically wounded friends. He and Luna were scaling the halls of St. Mungos, delivering tokens of hope to every residing patient. Some people from the Hospital Wing had been transferred to Mungos, so there were quite a few familiar faces around.

"Dennis is coming at noon," Luna said softly. She placed a basket by a shut door, which read, "do not disturb" on it. Otherwise, they would have gone inside to say hello.

"Dennis? Really?" Neville asked. Colin's death had hit the little boy hard; it was a surprise that he wanted to do anything.

"Yes," Luna replied. "He wants a distraction, I think. Much like you and I."

Neville didn't answer this. "Is anyone else coming?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," Luna said. "Parvati said that she's visiting Lavender, but will help after. The same goes for Dean and Seamus."

"Oh, right," Neville asked. "Thank – thanks for checking with everyone, Luna." He felt a little embarrassed, for leaving it all to her.

She shook her head. "You arranged the tribute. I only asked if people wanted to join us, today."

"Well," Neville said, sighing. "That's a pretty good amount. Of people, I mean. You're sure… nobody else?"

"Not that I know of," Luna replied. "Oh. Oh, do you mean Hannah?" He was too preoccupied to notice her slight change in tone, and merely nodded sheepishly. "I don't know," she said. "You can ask her, if you like. Next time you see her. She and Ernie will probably be visiting Susan, though."

"Oh right," Neville replied. He felt stupid for forgetting.

"She's still at Hogwarts," Luna went on. "Since it's not too serious."

"Right."

"So they'll probably be at Hogwarts."

"Alright." He exhaled. "Ready to go in this room?"

"Yes," Luna said. She placed a bright smile on her face, lighting up the entire hallway. That's what he liked about her, Neville thought fondly. She had the ability to captivate things – people, and places – even though she didn't know it.

They opened the door, and found the small cot occupied by a young woman.

"Hello," Luna greeted warmly, holding out the basket. "I'm Luna Lovegood, and this is Neville Longbottom. We're pleased to meet you." She sounded genuine, despite the corny nature of the line, and a smile emerged on Neville's face.

"Hello," the woman replied. She was staring at them blankly. Perhaps she'd had a memory charm done?

"Would you like our gifts?" Luna asked.

'Sure," she replied, shakily. She held out a frail hand, taking it from Luna.

"I don't believe I've seen you before," Luna said. "What's your name?"

"Cassie," she replied, looking nervous.

"How long have you been here?" Luna asked.

"I – I don't know…" Cassie said.

Neville glanced at Luna, trying to signal with his eyes. She clearly had been admitted because of the battle. Luna nodded. It wasn't as if they didn't want to help the other patients, because they did, but they could do a better job with those whose families they knew.

"Well, I hope you enjoy these," Luna said. She made a gesture, somewhere between a bow and a wave, and waited for Neville to say goodbye as well.

"Yes, enjoy them." He sounded stiff, and a little awkward. Oddly enough, Neville only had trouble with the patients who were strangers. It was strange, because it should have been _less_ uncomfortable, but secretly he understood why it was worse. As much as he wanted to, he had no sympathy for the other patients. They hadn't fought in a battle; they hadn't lost everything, or been close to it. They had stories too, but they weren't ones that Neville currently cared to relate to. Luna didn't feel that way, he knew, and he felt extremely guilty that he did.

"Next room?" Luna asked. He couldn't tell whether her cheerfulness was forced or not. She had been that way during the year, too. She always wore a smile, always tried to make he and Ginny feel a little better. That's why things had gotten so much harder after she disappeared. They'd lost their ray of sunshine.

"Yeah," Neville breathed. "Next room…" He felt himself ache a little, for his parents' room. It was odd, that he wanted to see them now, but he did. He hadn't been back since long before seventh year, and it felt appropriate to share the good news with them... Luna knew about all of that now, but he still didn't feel it was right to ask that they stop there. After all, they had more important things to do.

The next patient, lying against the pillows on her bed, sent a swift chill through Neville's lungs. It was Cho Chang. She'd been hit with the Cruciatus Curse many times during the battle, Neville knew. There had been a few hours where they hadn't thought she would make it, and they had rushed her to St. Mungos for care.

For one reason or another, her room was empty. Her parents weren't around, which Neville nearly found suspicious. They were overprotective ministry folk, adamant at making sure Cho had the best healers and potions at her disposal.

"Hi," Neville said. She looked so frail, he could hardly believe she was the girl whose beauty once stunned him into silence. "Do you want our baskets?"

Luna, for once, stood quietly. While her heroism over the year had obviously made peace with most students, she still had little to say to Cho. It was Cho's group of friends who had once created the most misery for her.

Cho nodded, smiling but silent. She didn't want to talk yet, or maybe, Neville realized icily, she couldn't.

"Here." He handed one forward to her, hardly able to watch as her shaking hand accepted it. No, this wasn't right. This was Cho Chang, the strong, popular girl. What happened here? He tried to smile as he muttered something about getting better, wanting nothing more than to run out of the hospital. He needed to see Hannah, or his parents. He wasn't sure why it overcame him so quickly, but it did. His grief had been pent up for far too long.

"Neville?" Luna asked, hesitantly grabbing his arm. They were outside of the room now, folded onto a plastic bench. "What's wrong? Can I help you?" He was shaking, his skin tingling in an ambiguous discomfort. His skin didn't feel right.

"No," he muttered, panting. "I – I don't think you can."

"Oh." She sank beside him, releasing his arm. Neville didn't notice her shattered expression, or the way she wanted nothing more than to be close to him. And so they both sat broken, waiting for someone else to come along and save them.

A/N: That's it for now! Thanks so much for reading, please review!


	4. Narcissa II

A/N: Please forgive me for the long delay between chapters! Life got hectic, and as you can probably tell from my story count, my update list is growing rapidly. Many thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter!

Unfortunately for Narcissa, the first person she happened to see was Harry Potter. Dark-haired and – as her critical mind decided – rather unclean looking, he stood just to the right of where she apparated.

Her pale eyes found a spot on the grass, her feet veering to the left. She found a chair in the back row before he had time to register her presence. She caught her breath, neck stiff and lips pursed. Once a few seconds had fallen by, she gathered enough courage to survey the attendance.

Not many people had come, it seemed. Two of the rotten Weasley children were there – the youngest two, she thought. And their horrible, muggle-loving father. And the mudblood too, of course, gripping the Weasley boy's hand so visibly that she could see his bones twitching. Even in her aversion to these people, she couldn't help but notice the obvious. The Weasley family hadn't come in its entirety. She knew that they'd lost a son – one of the twins, she was pretty sure – but hadn't heard much else. For a revolting second she felt some sympathy for their family, too sodden with grief to even leave the house, but then she remembered that Molly Weasley was the one who killed her sister. Bellatrix. And the sympathy vanished.

Deep, slow breaths passed through her squeezed lips, and she absent-mindedly counted the people around her. Five adults other than Arthur Weasley, namely assorted Order members. A stout little wizard, standing beside a podium. Two open caskets… she could only thank Salazar that she was sitting in the back. Swallowing the liquid in the back of her throat, she spotted her sister in the front. A baby in her arms, Harry and his friends sitting by her side. She was pale and trembling, but still as stubborn as ever. Narcissa could even see it from where she was. The taught lines in Dromeda's mouth, the determined fold to her eyebrows. For a moment, Narcissa had the fervent impulse to run and comfort her, but it passed. She was here for herself. For _her_ family. In her rather blustered state, she didn't let herself remember that Andromeda was family too.

"Today, we are here to remember…" And the rest of the wizard's words slipped right by her ears, even as the entire world seemed to grow silent. She couldn't listen, she found it unbearable. Instead, she watched.

The mudblood was sobbing. Entangled in the Weasley's arms, she shook with sadness. He was hardly hearing her, Narcissa could tell. She could see from the way he stroked her hair, loving but oblivious, that his mind was miles away. His sister's too, she noticed. The girl's eyes were glazed, her freckled complexion almost waxy. She looked numb, clay-like. No sadness passed her blank face. They didn't want to be here, the blood traitors. They were in no position to feel sadness for anyone besides their brother.

In a strange, self-reproachful way, Narcissa felt for them. And their blood wasn't as filthy as some others, she admitted with resentment, so she allowed the sentiment to pass through her

The wizard's voice rose, perhaps saying something powerful, and Narcissa locked her eardrums far inside her skull. She looked to Harry Potter now, and realized that his free hand – the other was resting numbly inside the Weasley girl's - was going almost unconsciously to his own ear. With a start, she realized he was trying not to listen as well. It was too hard, maybe, to hear a stranger talk about these things as if it mattered to them.

Pointedly, she did not look at the other adults. Especially her sister. She had a longer history with them, even the ones she hated, and it was harder for her to see what they were going to.

There was a dull dent in the wizard's speech then, and Narcissa came alert. Harry was making his way up in front of the crowd, she realized. Swallowing, biting her pink lips, she realized that Andromeda would probably speak as well.

His words were very moving. He paid tribute to the werewolf as teacher, and a mentor. He paid tribute to her niece as a wonderful person. He said that he cared about them both very much, being inches too shy from saying "love". With tears on his face, he stumbled back down to his friends.

Andromeda rose, her expression bland. She was as white as humanly possible though, and her trembling body said everything. Again, Narcissa felt the urge to connect to her, but she resisted.

It started out amiably enough. Andromeda was steady, first talking about how she'd grown to accept Remus in the end. How they'd made up their differences, and she was proud to have him as a son-in-law. At this, Narcissa stiffened. It was one thing she would never fully approve of.

But then, with a heaving sigh, Andromeda's words moved to her daughter. The hopes she'd had for her. How much she loved her. How much she missed her. Only then did her voice lose its quiet evenness, wobbling as she said how grateful she was for her grandson, Teddy. As if on cue, the baby began to cry.

Whether it was from the words (unlikely) or some other factor of being a baby (more probable), it certainly had enormous effect on the room. More tears ran down cheeks, more people moving around in a hopeless attempt of doing something. Andromeda was done, anyway, so it wasn't as if they had any reason to stay listening.

Narcissa watched hopelessly as her sister tried to hold the little boy. Her hands were shaking so badly, it seemed she could barely pick him up. Harry sat oblivious, head in his hands. At last, Narcissa rose. Her cheeks were dry, her insides oddly calm.

She stepped forward, careful to stay a good nine inches away from her sister. "Let me," she said.

Her brimming eyes wide, her breath gasping, Andromeda was helpless to do anything but comply. She handed the baby over, and Narcissa took him carefully in her arms. She couldn't be loving to him, not really, but as she held the baby – the unwanted, half breed of a baby – she couldn't help but latch her fingers tightly. Whatever else was true, Narcissa found she didn't want to let him go.


	5. Neville and Luna II

A/N: Many thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, and a thanks in advance to everyone who plans to review this one. I do love writing this story, and I'm so sorry about the long wait between updates.

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Neville slumped against the hospital wing wall, fingers smothering the skin over his temple. The day had taken its toll on him, particularly after Luna stopped making pleasant small talk. He could actually feel the weight of Saint Mungo's walls, the pain of the of the patients' at seeing him fit and healthy. In truth, he would trade it all. He would trade a body merely scarred for a lycanthropic one, or one without a leg, if it meant that he could leave behind the devouring sense of guilt and grief.

"Neville... I didn't expect to see you here." Hannah's eyes were wide beneath her blonde bangs, though not as bright as they'd once been. He hated that, he hated her loss of optimism; he would trade his health for her innocence as well. "I thought you were down at Mungo's."

He cleared the scratches from his throat, trying to smile for her. "I was, with Luna. We finished though, and I thought I would come and see how you were doing." Hannah, along with Susan and Padma and a myriad of their other classmates, was volunteering to help the wounded in spite of it all. His awe for her strength kept him going, though she would never know it. After losing her entire family, all but a distant aunt, she still had the capacity to come here ever day and help her suffering friends - and enemies.

"We're alright," she said kindly, eyes flickering to where Parvati and Lavender lay. Their hospital beds were side by side, cruelly ironic in the resemblance to their dormitory ones. "Well, we don't need your help, is what I think I mean." She rubbed her bleary eyes, as exhausted as he, if not more so.

Neville knew the surprise and hurt showed on his face, and tried to hide it immediately. She spotted it though, and caught his arm frantically. "I didn't mean it like that, Neville. You know that."

He sighed immediately, nodding. "Of course. I'm sorry, Hannah," he said. "I don't mean to be so... never mind."

"It's okay." She took a step closer to him, scrutinizing the sweat beneath his ears and the purple circles beneath his eyes. "Of course it's okay. Neville... I think you should go home for a few hours."

"No, no," he brushed away the idea, straightening up as best he could. "They need my help. And besides, I'm okay..." He could barely summon the strength to say the words, much less make them believable. The sag of his shoulders hardly helped.

"Oh Neville," she said, taking his hand. Surprise washed over him for a moment, since it was the first real affection between them since the battle, but he let it settle into comfort. "You're not okay," she said, raising a shaky hand to his face. "You can tell me that you are if that's what you need to do, but I know you better than that." Her fingers wove through his soaked hair, far tenderly than anything his grandmother had ever done. He felt his veneer softening, melting away at her kindness. He'd never told her, never had the bravery - despite what people were now saying about him, but he often thought that he could not have survived the year without her. Her kindness broke through the hardened months of a year without much else. The earnest look in her eyes caught him around the middle, keeping him sane through everything the Carrows tossed his way.

"Hannah..." he breathed, wishing to be close to her, if only for a moment. Having learned that life is short, and it does not do to be afraid, Hannah enfolded him into her arms without a second thought.

"Neville," she repeated, finding the sound of his name a comfort. "You'll be okay." And she rocked him back and forth, hoping it was true.

* * *

Meanwhile, Luna sat on a bench in the Great Hall, one that she had never seen before. She assumed the workers put it there, sometime when they set about putting castle back together. It provided a good place to have a cry, when you needed one, though not in a particularly private place.

Still, tears rushed into her cupped hands until they were filled to the brim, and she hardly thought she should care what onlookers thought anyway. Crying was hardly a thing to be ashamed of nowadays, and people would understand. Besides, she thought, her back straightening despite the sobbing, she'd never cared what anyone thought. The only thing that shamed her, more than a little bit, was her reason for being so upset. Her friends had died, nearly her father too, yet her tears were over a boy. A boy who had never been hers anyway, not for longer than a misinterpreted moment. She thought perhaps that this was only an excuse, and she was really sadder for things far harder to process, but she let herself revel in this unusual bitterness.

"Luna..." A voice like gravel and pudding, equal parts smooth and rough.

"Hello Dean," she sniffed, pulling her hands away from her face. Tears continued to slip through her red-rimmed eyes, but she caught his gaze anyhow. At once she noticed that his eyes were damp too, shadowed by a look that she'd only seen once or twice before in him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting beside her. His hand touched her shoulder, far gentler than it appeared with its calluses and fisting abilities. "Besides the obvious things," he said, laughing humorlessly.

"Nothing," she said, swallowing back the sobs. "Well, nothing important anyway. Nothing... like any of this." She gestured at the solemn walls of the school, walls which had once enclosed holidays and laughters. Walls which had once enclosed their childhoods. "And... and how are you?" He handed her a handkerchief before answering, letting her dab her eyes.

"I'm - I'm alright, I suppose. I just... I just left Seamus with the girls, though," he said, taking a shaky breath. "Lavender and Parvati," he added, when she looked confused. "I mean, they'll be alright I'spose, but it's hard..." Another quavering gulp of air, and Luna reached for his hand. "He doesn't like seeing them that way, and quite honestly neither do I." He looked at her, eyes welling once away. "I'm sorry. I know they weren't nice to you much..."

"That doesn't matter now," Luna said, shaking her head fervently. "Of course it doesn't."

Dean nodded. "Thank you, Luna," he said. They sat together for a while, and Luna felt her stomach shift. Once upon a time, she and Neville had been close. Nearly best friends, for a time. But things had changed. She'd disappeared from school, and - and he'd reached out to Hannah. It wasn't as if she hadn't expected him to date, of course. After all he'd been through, he deserved someone to love and kiss and, when this was all past them, to be happy with. She'd once hoped it might be her, but... but they just couldn't see eye to eye as they once had. And yet here was Dean. Perhaps it was the circumstances, for she could never have imagined being friends with him before, but she could talk to him in a way that she never remember being able to talk to anybody else.

"I - I should be getting back," Dean said reluctantly. "I think I'm going over to Seamus's for dinner, and..." he paused, eyes flickering to the hospital wing.

"Would you like me to come and get him with you?" Luna asked, so transparent in her understanding that it almost soothed his worries.

Instead, he offered her a sad little smile. "I would really appreciate it, Luna. Thank you."

* * *

A/N: I would really love it if you took the time to review! Thanks so much for reading!


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